The Landing

The whirring of the landing craft engines melded with the sounds of the choppy seas to create a horrific cacophony of noise. White, foamy spray shot up and over the sides, showering the occupants within with salt water. The sky was streaked with miserable grey clouds, punctuated here and there by scraps of blue - glimmers of hope peering through a blanket of fear.

The young soldier had his head bowed, muttering a silent prayer. The droplets of seawater landed on his uniform like a shower of rain, while all around him the other soldiers in the craft stood in apprehensive silence, broken by the sound of retching, as some of them expelled the contents of their stomachs onto the deck – vomit born of fear or the rhythmic undulations of the sea, the young soldier did not know. As for him, his stomach heaved but not because of the ocean.

As they got nearer the beach, new sounds joined the chorus of noise. The sound of guns, explosions, and the violent screech of artillery flying through the air.

The young soldier’s heartbeat began to race faster, the hammering in his chest matching the pounding of the guns. His terror rose with his apprehension. Any moment now the craft would slow and stop. The front ramp would come down, and a wave of lethal thunder would roll towards them. A storm of gunpowder and lead that would claim many lives.

Would he be one?

Despite his fear, feelings of determination flooded through him. The constant mantra of the commanding officers played in his head repeatedly – get off the beach... get off the beach...Getting off the beach meant safety. Another day of life. A large footstep into France and the final defeat of Germany. That is what they had all been told and that is what they all believed.

That belief covered him now like a shield.

The landing craft slowed. As the engines grew quiet, the opera of gunfire grew louder. There were screams and shouts mixed within it. He checked his equipment and completed his prayer. In his mind’s eye he saw the beach and then he saw beyond it – to a place of safety. That is what he was aiming for.

That is what he would get to.

Already he could hear bullets pinging off the metal hull, playing an awful lullaby.

There came a sudden shout from the back of the boat.

Ready!

The time had come.

He took a deep breath.

The front ramp lowered.